


Speaking silence you wrote

by gallavichxsoulmates



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Besically Ian thinking about Mickey the night before going to prison, Emotional Ian Gallagher, Love Letters, M/M, Mickey Milkovich in Mexico, POV Ian Gallagher, References to Canon, References to Illness, S9EP6 canon divergence, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallavichxsoulmates/pseuds/gallavichxsoulmates
Summary: "If I hold my breath, I can still feel your greedy, yearning kisses – our tongues beating and our bodies coming together as if they wanted to merge each other."In which Ian is about to go in prison and realized the only person he wanted to talk his fears out is miles away from him.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Speaking silence you wrote

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AllThatMatters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThatMatters/gifts).



> So, this is my first attempt to write something for this fandom. It's nothing big or elaborate, but is still something ya know. These words were stuck on my mind for a long time and then I kept them into my phone notes for over a year till this moment!  
> Which we have to thank @AllThatMatters for it, since she is the one who helped me to fix it and gave me the confidence to post it!  
> So let's gonna give her some love! (Plus I really suggest y'all to go check her works!!) 
> 
> You can picture this moment right after Ian was on the porch smoking with Lip during s9ep6, he walk back in the house and go upstairs, enter his room and looks around, then he sits on his bed and smile a bit because he's thinking "why not?"  
> So he get up and finds a pen and a piece of paper and surrounded by silence he starts to write to Mickey.

I thought I would get over it, you know? That I would be able to go on. I believed it all the other times I've tried to leave you behind – that I've tried to move on. And I tried. God knows I really tried, with all that I am. Yes, I wanted to forget that time you ended up in jail and I tried to break your heart by telling you I was only there because Svet paid me, but it wasn't like that. In my heart, I knew it wasn't like that. It has never been like that, not even when I got up and walked away, turning my back while you were still sitting behind that glass with the phone, listening. The same time I never came back to see you. But I needed you to believe it. I had to make your heart hate me, so I hurt you, because I couldn't close that chapter by myself. I could see the pain in your eyes. You looked at me and smiled, proudly showing me that tattoo on your chest and for a moment – a single moment – you managed to break down the walls that I made sure I never lowered. Because you’re like that: _you have never given up on me._ You have always been there for me, even when there was no one else. And in my darkest times you were that glimmer of hope that I could faintly see in the twilight.

I thought I would get over it – get over that pain that I felt in the center of my chest, like a vice, every time the evening fell and you weren't there to fill the void in my bed.

I thought I would get over it, but I was furious. Not with you. With myself! It infuriated me not to be able to stop thinking about you – not to be able to suppress that part of me that was constantly drawn to my feelings for you. And I hated myself because I wasn't the person I wanted to be; my dreams and my ambitions – everything was falling apart. And my stupid disease that I thought I had under control, but obviously didn't. So I tried to blame and hate you for all the misfortunes that had happened to me in the past, and I said things about you – things that I’m not proud of – and if only I could rewind the tapes of these events, believe me, I would make up for everything that hurt you.

I thought I would get over it, and for a period of time I thought I'd finally succeeded; _but they weren't you._ They didn't have your smell or taste, and all I felt was the disappointment when I would look for something of you in others, but was never able to find it...

I have never felt the same thrill that I only felt when you were next to me.

I thought I would get over it, but you’re crazy, and you have decided to fall back into my life like a storm: intense and overwhelming. You knew I would come, you said – because you know every veiled corner of my soul. If I close my eyes, I can still see your glowing, shiny blue eyes begging me to get in the fucking car. If I hold my breath, I can still feel your greedy, yearning kisses – our tongues beating and our bodies coming together as if they wanted to merge each other. And I wish I'd never let you cross that stupid line; but I was scared. I told you that I was no longer that kind of person, and that my life had gone on while you were behind bars, and I believed it had. I was afraid of losing what little I had managed to put together in my life without you. My job made me feel like I had a worthy place in this world again. And my family – which you know is far from perfect – was still something I couldn’t give up. I was afraid that balance I had found would be lost if I jumped off that cliff with you.

And I'm sorry, Mick. I'm so sorry. I was your family, and I’ve let you down so many times. You said you weren’t able to express your feelings every minute, and yet you made me feel loved every second of my life; you always put me before everything – and sometimes, even before yourself and your fears. And you don't know how much I’ve loved you for it. _The truth is, I've never really stopped._ Fuck, I should have told you this over and over, and I should have told you how much I missed you more often. I should have thanked you more often. I should have been there more often.

_Where are you now?_

I imagine you’re on one of those golden beaches by a crystal clear sea. And maybe your white skin has been burned by the hot and perpetual sun. And I wonder if you have any new tattoos? But knowing you, I'd bet my balls!

I've lost count of the times we've said goodbye. _We were lost and found so many times;_ and every time you came back to me, it was as if the world stopped spinning and everything around us stopped; everything except you and me.

But I'm afraid that this time could be the final one, and I feel like I've wasted the only real opportunity to be happy in my whole life. I screwed up Mick, and in the morning, I'll be the one locked in a cell. And I feel alone without the only person to whom I would have confessed how scared I feel at this moment.

It’s now late at night, and I feel so stupid here in the pitch dark, writing you words that you will never be able to read, and telling you things you will never know.

I just hope you're happy over there without me.

I am a little less so here without you.

I hope Mexico is as you imagined it, and I hope you can forgive me one day – in your heart – _because we are under each other's skin, aren't we?_

Fuck you, Milkovich!

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for now, every comment will be very appreciated, so feel free to write me something! Thank you so much ♡
> 
> You can find me on:  
> Ig as gallavichxsoulmates and twitter as @gallavichxsoul


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